What To Do Next?
by 3 of clubs
Summary: What do you do after the war you had been fighting most of your life and all of you wizarding life is over? Do you bask in all the glory of winning, or get buried under the grief over all who you lost on the way? Or do you hide, just for a little while?


"BOY!"

Bellowed a very red faced uncle Vernon from the doorway of the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive. Behind him, at the top of the stairs, stood Petunia Dursley and a couple of stairs below, Dudley Dursley, all of whom where staring at a boy who was currently sat by the bedroom window, staring out at the street below. The boy did not respond to his what his uncle usually addressed him as, his vacant expression stayed firmly on his face, almost as he hadn't hear his uncle at all.

It wasn't until Vernon's finger, which he had used to point at the boy, started to violently shake, and he started spluttering, before finally spitting out, "What are YOU doing here?" that Harry turned around to address his relatives. He did not answer the question straight away, instead watched as spots on the bedrooms carpet turned darker where his uncles spite had landed. In the amount of time it took Vernon to turn an alarming purple shade, a couple of seconds, a small crease had started in-between Harry's eyebrows.

Harry meet his uncles eye with a very thoughtful expression, "I...I don't know" he replied to his uncles question. He only looked at his uncle a second later, but never noticed how his spluttering increased and his face turned an even darker shade of purple, before turning back to the window where his face melted back it to the vacant expression and his eyes held a distant look.

Through out the thing Dudley's eyes flickered from his dad to cousin, wondering when Harry was going to say some witty insult or his dad shout the house down. But none of that came, instead his mum, who looked unusually pale, placed her hand on his dads shoulder to gently hold him back. "Come on Vernon I'll put the kettle on," she soothed "we can deal with this in the morning, he can stay for one night." which she accompanied with a gently tug on his arm.

Slowly the Dursley family turned around and trugged down the stairs and into the kitchen, all sitting in there previous chairs. After a moment of silences Petunia clapped her hands on her knees and started to get up, "I'll make the tea than shall I" she said, using a cheery voice to try and lighten the mood.

"No that's all right mum, I'll do it." Dudley insisted, taking the cups out of Petunias hand which she had already collected from the cupboard. Collecting one more cup out of the cupboard Dudley started the mundane task of making tea, something that stayed the same through out the whole year and all the different safe houses. But Dudley felt a very strange sense of surreal, he was making tea in his _own_ house and it felt...odd.

It felt even odder when they had first walked in to the house, automatically walking down the hallway to the kitchen where they naturally went to there chairs where they had sat at for the past seventeen years. They had all sat down and before Petunia could mention tea they had heard a creak from upstairs. Now being swapped from safe house to safe house whilst being constantly drilled about noticing anything suspicious had made the Dursley's quiet jumpy. So at the sound of the noise they had all jumped up, Vernon in lead, and went to go investigate the most unvisited part of the house.

Pouring the water into the four cups, Dudley eyes followed the steadily rising steam, where his eyes landed on the roof of the kitchen and the floor of Harry's room, _What is he doing coming back?_ he thought.

Careful to not spill the tea Dudley slowly walked upstairs. After learning his lesson from last time he walked past the tea stain in the carpet at the bedroom door before gently knocking. He awkwardly stood at the door before Harry looked his way, "I...I em..bought you this, for you know, you know if your thirsty or something," he stammered whilst slowly leaning in to the room, "I'll just put it there" he added, putting the cup on his stack of draws. He turned around and started walking back until he heard Harry mumble "Thanks". Nodding his head he headed back to the kitchen.

Harry stared at the door until he could hear Dudley's last steps on the stairs and resumed staring at the street below which was slowly starting to darken. He didn't know long he'd sat there, a few hours maybe. He was content to just sit there and hope no one would find him. He heard the Dursley's come in but hadn't moved to make his presence known, he just sat there. Even if they had found him he was sure they would just ignore him, that's what used to happen.

The street was quiet and empty as it had been for the past couple of days, only the odd car passing. He knew it was stupid, knew he would never come, knew that he was _dead_ and could never come. But he still waited, for what else was there to do? He'd always had the next step planned, maybe never exactly told Harry what needs to be done, but he always shown him how to figure it out. Now what was he suppose to do?

By now the street lamps were slowly starting to glow crimson and Harry wondered of he should go to bed. He quickly glanced at the be and noticed how it was still neatly made up, nothing like the way he left it. It was little things like that that he knew something had happened to the house, that maybe some one had trashed it and someone else, probable an Order member, had tried to put it back as to how it was.

The Dursley's hadn't noticed it yet but he was sure they would, it was small things, like the way coat pegs by the door were slightly low down or the door mat being less warn in. In fact it surprised Harry how much he knew about the house he tried to get out of for eleven years before dreading going back for summer the next six years, especially when he was in this numb and indifferent mood.

Ironic how he spent most of his life dreaming of a way to get out and when he can he comes back, thinking of it more as a safe haven, the perfect place to hide. He knew the protection his mothers death had cause broke when he left, and would have anyway when he was seventeen but he was also aware that the Ministry had put some other wards on the house to unable the house to become a land mark as to where the Boy-Who-Lived grow up. It also didn't hurt that he added some of his own, more out of habit really. They weren't as strong as the ones he had been doing for the past year as he didn't want to attracted to much attention, but he added a few notice-me-nots and wizard repliers.

He didn't want wizards, or witches, to find him, didn't want their special treatment or congratulations. He wanted to be treated normal. Not even that at times. Perhaps that's another reason he came back to privet drive, they had never treated him like him fairly, never like a human being. But right now that's what he wanted because that's how he felt and that's how he felt he should be treated, just for a little while.

He didn't want to sound melodramatic but they just really didn't understand. Maybe Ron and Hermione, they understood that its hard to get a full nights sleep when your used to waking up in the middle of the night to go on watch. But they went to go find Hermione's parents. They had asked for him to go with them but he couldn't, he needed some time to figure things out. He had seen there reluctances to go with out him but in the end after they had lost so much it was good for they to go find something else, and so he let them go.

And Ginny, god how he loved her, but he just couldn't face her right now, not when her brother had just died, not when he could of prevented it. No, he just couldn't face her. Couldn't face The Burrow either, not Mrs Weasley's concern or Mr Weasley's knowing looks. He just had to go.

Slowly now his head started to lean forward, his eyelids grow heaver. His last sight was his breath steaming up the window were the street lamps orange light barely shone through. If he had been awake a moment longer he might have notice the suspicious tabby cat walking down the middle of the road.

A/N: Any suggestions on a new title?


End file.
